


Growing Strong (Burning Bright)

by jacksgreysays (jacksgreyson), jacksgreyson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreysays, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksgreyson/pseuds/jacksgreyson
Summary: Flames are not the only power in the world; the best way to fight monsters is with magic.Or, the Evans sisters had a brother and he's looking to fight Family with family.(A KHR x Harry Potter fusion. Originally posted on tumblr)





	1. Prologue

There are many dimensions in existence; many layers of parallel universes in which certain choices were not made or certain phenomena occurred differently. The multiverse is vast and infinite. But there are… patterns, certain events that happen certain people who live quite frequently in multiple dimensions. The law of large numbers guarantees that in the long-term, or in a large enough population, certain events are not so random but expected.

There exists a boy who has the ability to connect with all of his alternate selves; who has used his collective knowledge to increase his power, to take over his respective worlds. But he does not always succeed. Sometimes it is a fault in himself, or that version of himself–too arrogant, too weak, too afraid–but sometimes it is the dimension that works against him.

With the multiverse being infinite, there are as many branches of this power-mad boy’s successes as there are his failures. And yet, with his abilities, these branches are spread out. The law of averages supposes that most future events are likely to balance any past deviation from a presumed average. Meaning that these branches of failures exist because the multiverse makes them exist. For every success that boy has, it will create a failure one way or another.

One of them involves an unlucky fourteen year old Japanese boy; but we know that story already. In this story, this universe, the hero is an unlucky fourteen year old British boy.


	2. Chapter One

“I have never lied to you,” The man asserts, though he keeps his posture and expression loose and submissive. He is standing in front of a desk; and though his suit and shoes are of very high quality, they are rags in comparison to what the man behind the desk is wearing.

The man behind the desk, the first man’s boss, stays silent.

The employee gives in after the moment stretches taught like a noose around the neck, “I just didn’t tell you everything,” He wills himself not to fidget with his tie.

Again the other man remains silent. Expectant.

“It happened almost two decades ago, and I was told not to say anything… and after I left home, it didn’t matter anymore. So I just never brought it up,” It was a different part of his life and a different world which he had only ever existed on the periphery.

“And yet, here we are,” The boss intones, no hint as to what he wants next from the conversation. In truth, he is not angry, he does not feel betrayed. There is nearly nothing this particular employee of his can do that will cause animosity between them; he has been loyal and hardworking and his skills are nothing to scoff at. But secrets within the firm can be a hindrance at best, dangerous at worst, and the firm is more important than one employee.

“Here we are,” The employee parrots numbly. Now his posture has slumped further, the submission no longer a front.

“Do sit down, Evans,” And as if he were a puppeteer, a casual wave of his hand prompts Evans to obey, “The situation isn’t ideal, but that’s because of those Italians, not you. If anything, you can help the firm salvage this,” At this, the other man regains his composure, mind completely in business mode. “You’re one of the few who can stand up to those monsters, but that’s not enough. Not when it seems every damn family has a full set at their beck and call. We need a new department. One specifically designed to battle them. And if they have monsters…”

Evans looks at his boss, determination gleaming in his eyes, “We’ll use magic,”


	3. Chapter Two

The thing is, he doesn’t know what happened to his family after he left. His farewells with his parents were less than amicable, but at least they happened. His goodbyes to his sisters were nonexistent.

He had turned seventeen and had felt invincible the way teenagers always do. Righteous and all-knowing from false confidence. Cokeworth wasn’t exactly high society, so no one really judged him for breaking a few laws here and there to make ends meet, but his Da always had a grim look on his face whenever he was snuck back into the cramped house late at night, and Mum would watch him with sad eyes like he was more a ghost than a human.

Though he probably shouldn’t say that, considering ghosts are actually real. Maybe it was because he and Lily had a different relationship, or maybe it was just the bigger age gap, but he was never jealous of his youngest sister getting magic. Not like Petunia who fluctuated between longing and disgust over the idea of being a witch.

To him it was just another thing that made all of the Evans siblings unique from each other. Lily had magic, and Petunia had societal ambitions, and he danced around the law occasionally. It was no more or less important than Lily having red hair and Petunia having blonde hair and him having brown.

And in a way, he was glad that it led to a friend for Lily. He’s not ashamed of Cokeworth, but he knows what life is like there. It grows people harder and flintier and meaner, and kids are already cruel to begin with. But Lily… maybe because she was the baby of the family… but she never really got that. Oh, she’d get angry and hold grudges occasionally, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t as clawing and desperately bitter as most folks from Cokeworth.

Little Sev was a good friend for her, and she for him. Snape the elder, whenever they had the misfortune of crossing paths–which was thankfully not very frequently–was as rotten and slimy as they come. But Sev was a good kid, and on the rare occasions when he could hang about his youngest sister and her friend, he’d make for decent company. And at least the kid wouldn’t punch him in the arm for teaching him how to lie without actually doing so, for such a small girl Lily really did pack a wallop.

But that was decades ago… he hasn’t seen either of his sisters since… shite, it’s 1994 already… since 1973. Twenty one years. That’s older than he was when he left. He’s spent more of his life without and interaction with them than actually having been their brother.

No wonder he doesn’t know what happened to them.

Eh, he’s got pretty much all of the firms at his disposal. Can’t be that hard to find out what happened to two girls from Cokeworth.


	4. Chapter Three

As far as he knows, he’s only one of three employees who have Flames. And even then, he’s the one that uses it most frequently. Shah in Pharmaceuticals has red Flames, also known as “Storm” type according to what he’s been able to find, but she doesn’t use it for anything more than speeding up certain chemical reactions. Then there’s Gordon whose blue Flames, “Rain” which doesn’t make sense to him but he’s not the one who decided on the names, doesn’t seem to do much but make people sleepy. He doesn’t think it’d be very helpful for a lawyer, but what would he know.

As for him? His purple Flames, his “Cloud” Flames, can multiply objects. His first and most useful ability is to create an endless clip of bullets. It’s pretty much perfect for that–since his Flames weren’t very strong in the beginning, and he could only copy small objects for a short time. But bullets don’t need to be large or last long. He’s improved a lot since then, but in comparison to the Italians, it’s just little tricks. Nothing inhuman, nothing world ending.

All the same, though, as far as the firm is concerned he’s their expert in Flames. He was lucky enough to encounter a neutral Italian when his own Flames activated–some doctor named Shamal with indigo “Mist” type–and in exchange for a few minor favors got a basic explanation.

Of course, now it turns out Shamal works for the damn Vongola so there’s not going to be any future intel from that corner.

The need for a department of Flame users isn’t exactly a top priority, but it’s definitely something that the firm should invest in sooner rather than later. Hence the whole “tracking down his estranged sisters, because maybe Flames are hereditary” thing. Which leads to this, frankly, nerve shuddering experience of him standing in the middle of some polished perfect suburb where his eldest sister apparently lives.

One thing’s for sure, Surrey is a lot cleaner than Cokeworth.


	5. Chapter Four

When Branton knocks on the door of Number Four Privet Drive, a small whale of a human opens it. He’s seen some pretty strange things over the course of his career, so he has a pretty decent poker face, but he can still feel his cheek twitch.

“What do you want?” the whale says through a mouth full of something brown. Hopefully it’s chocolate.

“Does Petunia Dursley live here?” He asks, civil at least in the face of such rudeness.

“Muuum!” the whale shrieks, not unlike a death throe, before retreating back into the house. It leaves the door wide open, and Branton can’t help the flash of thought–no self preservation, weak, soft, pathetic, I could kill you so easily–but he shoves it down. That’s his sister’s son, why would he?

Tuney appears in the hallway, mouth in a smile that immediately becomes strained upon spotting him. He’s not insulted at all–he’d probably do the same if he bothered with polite smiles–mostly, he’s surprised she recognized him at all.

He hardly recognizes her in turn, though that’s probably unfair. Last time he saw Tuney, she was only fifteen, hardly past childhood. Now she’s a mother, a woman with wrinkles and brittle hair, pale and skeletal and sullen.

Then again, the sullen part hasn’t changed very much.

“Tuney,” he greets simply.

“It’s Petunia,” she corrects through gritted teeth, then, “Briar Rose,” she bites out in acknowledgement.

“Petunia,” he accedes, then, “I go by Branton now,” he doesn’t smile.

She doesn’t even bother maintaining her own smile, her expression transforming completely into a scowl.

He’s wearing one of his sharper suits, the one that emphasizes his broad shoulders and lethality, so he doesn’t know why she’s surprised.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other,” he tries.

“Through no fault of mine,” she shuts him down.

They stand in silence for a moment: Branton is so keenly aware of the doorway between them, him outside on the front step, her in the immaculate shell of her house.

“May I come in?”


	6. Chapter Five

Something Doctor Shamal told him springs to mind as he sits rigidly in his estraged sister’s photoshoot perfect receiving room. Different types of flames have different aspects–abilities, yes, but also character traits. At the time, Branton had chalked it up to more of that mystical mumbo jumbo, but now he’s not so sure.

Storm types were devoted (obsessive), Mist types were insightful (manipulative), Sun types were optimistic (naive), so on and so forth, little things like that. It had seemed as legitimate as the silly color changing mood rings that had been a fad during his teenage years. His own independent (isolated) tendencies certainly match Shamal’s description of Cloud types–he’d shudder at the thought of this suburban lifestyle, settling down to start a family, if he weren’t trying to make a good impression on his estranged sister.

Or at least a not absolutely terrible impression.

“I won’t make a scene outside where the neighbors can witness,” she says, begrudgingly bringing a tea set and placing it on the table between them. Impeccable manners even if the actual well-meaning intentions aren’t behind it, “I expect you to say your piece and leave. Preferably for another two decades if not longer.”

It’s not exactly the best reception he could have had, but it’s fair enough. Certainly better than what he was expecting.

Then again, he’s not sure what he was expecting, really, hadn’t known what twenty years would do to the fifteen year old girl he’d left behind in Cokeworth. Still has no idea what it did to the thirteen year old he can’t find anything about.

Branton knows bringing up their little sister, the sister who Petunia had always been at least a little jealous over, isn’t exactly going to endear him to her. But given that he literally has exhausted all other means, well…

Frankly, he hadn’t actually wanted to see Petunia again. Not out of any ill-will–actually, quite the opposite. He knows she’s got a nice, normal life set up here, far from their Cokeworth past; far from her brother’s criminal inclinations and her sister’s magical existence. There’s no reason for her and her new family to get tangled up in this at all, not when she has no way to defend herself against it.

He expects to say his piece and leave her life again. This time for good, because Petunia doesn’t deserve this, him, showing up on her front door out of the blue.

He can’t say the same for his other sister, who stepped into an entirely different world than the one Branton did, and only ever sometimes looked back. A world where every person was armed and dangerous and capable of doing impossible things.

Well, maybe her world was a little like his.

Branton nods, gets back on track, steels himself for the final severing of ties between himself and Petunia. “Where’s Lily?” he asks, and notes the way her mouth flattens into a hard, displeased line. The way it always had after their little sister received a letter neither of them had gotten.

But he also sees the way Petunia’s eyes narrow, her eyebrows curve. Not out of distaste or jealousy or even anger. Out of confusion and then shock and then quickly hidden sorrow, “You’re thirteen years too late to ask me that,” she responds through gritted teeth. She looks away, though, lets him deal with the news without her cutting, accusing gaze.

Maybe Lily’s world was more like his than he thought.


End file.
